


Multiplying Monkeys

by Springmagpies



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies
Summary: Fitz has a habit of leaving his wallet at home, a habit his three little ones are very aware of. And they aren't ones to leave a possible prank unfulfilled, especially on a rainy day with little else to do.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 20
Kudos: 53





	Multiplying Monkeys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [besidemethewholedamntime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besidemethewholedamntime/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY REBECCA!!!! You are a sunflower queen who deserves all the good things in the world! 💛🌻

One of the oddest things Fitz had had to get used to after settling down back on Earth had been remembering his keys. After leaving SHIELD, he and Jemma had found out just how many incredibly strange things they had gotten used to. Alya was quick in her adjustment to life on Earth, going through multiple phases of getting used to things but ultimately settling relatively quickly. They, however, found themselves hung up on the oddest things. Of course there were the big things: the nightmares, the anxieties, the fears. Those too lessened with time, but they weren’t surprising to the pair. What always seemed to come out of left field were the little things.

For Jemma it had been the doorbell. Every time someone pushed the button next to the door and the little chime went off around the house she would jump slightly, her eyes scanning for her daughter and husband. 

“Damn that thing,” she would mutter. But over the years, and after Fitz had swapped it out to something a little less mechanical sounding--the fact that it was on the border of being an alarm sound didn’t help the matter--she got used to the thing. After a few more years, two more babies, and a whole farm of animals, the sound of the doorbell now meant: “oh for heaven's sake, don’t rush the door! You’ll topple your nan!” Or something to that effect. 

For Fitz, though, his small life back on Earth adjustment never really went away. Keys. Years in SHIELD and he never had to carry so many keys. House keys, car keys, keys to his mum’s house, keys to Jemma’s parents house, keys to the shed/lab, random keys that how in the hell they had picked them up was beyond anyone. And, on top of it all, he hadn’t carried a wallet in the SHIELD days either. He had his SHIELD badge, but there was even a time when they didn’t carry those as there had been no SHIELD. In fact, many times where there had been no SHIELD and therefore no badge. For the longest time they had simply just had their lanyards. As for keys at SHIELD, they were something that someone forcefully threw at you as you were embarking on a mission or were left in the ignition of a car for a speedy get away. It seemed like an entirely different lifetime when he had to drop keys into a dish along with spare change and other nonsense left in one's pocket along with the lint.

Because of this oddity, Fitz rarely bothered to check his pockets, a habit that drove Jemma mad and made their kids laugh. 

“Daddy’s forgotten his wallet,” their middle child liked to say, her little voice piping up and failing to hide a giggle. Fitz would often put her blonde curls in her face to get her to stop teasing him, but always with a smile and an eye roll. Maisie always found a way to make what could be a frustrating mistake lighthearted and an interruption purposeful. It was her special gift. 

Maisie, however, was not the only smart cookie in the Fitzsimmons family cookie jar. Her two siblings were equally bright and equally mischievous--though neither were as obviously puckish as their sister. Alya was much more subtle with her pranks and teasing, having learned well from her Aunty Daisy. She often refined Maisie’s larger than life ideas and made them much more sensible plans of action. 

As for James, the baby of the lot, he was never purposefully prankish nor prone to teasing. He was much more shy, clinging to his eldest sister’s skirts if his parents were unavailable. However, he always delighted in seeing his sisters smile and in being a part of the overall energy of a good game. So, he tended to act as lookout or as the keeper of the dogs in any of the trio’s shenanigans. Well, only their very large border collie lab, Goddard, needed looking after, but he liked to hold onto both him and Luna, their smaller and more even tempered pup. 

However, in their Pocket Prank he became much more involved.

It was a rainy spring morning when they hatched their plan. The garden was too soggy and the rain coming down too hard to even allow for a good  _ muddy puddle paddle,  _ as Alya had named it when she was Maisie’s age--the wise number of six--and so the trio had been confined indoors. Never a good shout for the Fitzsimmons children. Only James enjoyed indoors more than out, and even he could get restless during a rainstorm. The rumbling thunder made him jumpy and as skittish as the animals he tended to so closely.

The fact that their play area was under construction did not help matters either, what with the new flooring and layers of paint making it off limits to all but Alya. However, after Maisie had led the dogs and a reluctant Stella the cat on a grand and very loud parade around the house--startling even the poor fish--the eldest Fitzsimmons was soon tasked with helping her little sister and James--but really mostly the former--find something to do. 

“She’s going to want to cause mischief of one kind or another. Probably a prank if I had to take a guess,” Alya advised her mother with a serious look. Fitz often said that despite his daughter sharing many of his physical characteristics, she had inherited her expressions from her mother.

“Then make sure it’s a good one,” Jemma said. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “And make sure it’s on your Da and not on baby Jamie. Or me for that matter.”

Alya grinned, her blue eyes flashing with the spark of an idea. It was a look that was shared among the whole Fitzsimmons clan, a look that all of the old team loved to comment on. The bright light of a sudden bolt of brilliance. Jemma nearly snorted when she saw the gleam flare across the familiar shade of blue. She and Fitz loved it when they could see that flash, but she had the feeling Fitz would have been less inclined to laugh if he knew the glimmer was against him. 

As she watched Alya skip away down the hall and towards the kitchen, Jemma had to hide a smirk behind the back of her hand. Poor Fitz. She could already picture the delight in Maisie’s face and, combined with the ideas already whirring nearly visibly through Alya’s head, he definitely had a prank coming his way. 

“We could put duct tape over his shoes!” Maisie said to her sister when the fellowship gathered in the kitchen. She sat up high so her knees squished the cushion of the breakfast nook bench. 

“What would the duct tape do?” Alya asked.

“Stick his shoes to the floor.”

“He’ll see it, though, and pick a different pair.”

James picked up an apple slice from off his plate, holding it in his little hand. “All his shoes?” he said. He shoved the apple into his mouth. Alya added a few more to his plate from the communal dish.

“Hide all his other pairs?” Maisie added.

“I think we move away from duct tape.”

“And save it for later?”

“Yeah, save it for later,” James said, sneaking an apple under the table. Goddard took it with a sneeze of thanks.

Alya scrunched her nose, but sighed. “Okay. We’ll table it.” 

Maisie smiled and took a dramatic bite of her own apple slice, sitting back down on her pockets with a bounce.

There was a small pause filled with the sound of chewing and a huff from Goddard. He had finished his apple and both missed it and knew he would not obtain anymore. James had given his head the pat pat that meant  _ no more doddard.  _ Instead of trying to fruitlessly beg, the pup laid his head on his well loved monkey--all Fitzsimmons children had one after all--and gave another snort. It was then that James had his own sudden bolt of brilliance flash in his eyes.

“How ‘bout we stuff his pockets?” James suggested after a moment.

“With what?” Alya asked.

“Heavy things,” Maisie chimed in, jumping on her knees again. “All the rocks we can find. After all of the rocks from the garden are put in there he won’t be able to pick up his jacket. He’ll look right silly.”

“I don’t think his pockets would fit all the rocks from the garden.”

Maisie scrunched her nose. “Guess not.”

“I was thinking all our monkeys might,” James said quietly. “Well, not all our monkeys. Big Mack won’t fit in Da’s pockets very well.”

“James, you can hardly hold Big Mack,” Alya giggled. When his face fell slightly, she quickly squeezed his hand. “But I like your idea. I say I like it quite a bit.” And the smile returned once more, lighting up the blue hue of the boy’s eyes.

As they gathered their collection of monkeys--of course only the ones that would fit in one’s pockets--their father peeked out of the play room. His brows were drawn together in curiosity and his hand still held a paint brush. 

“What are you monkeys up to?” he asked, eyeing their full hands. 

“We’re creating a wildlife enclosure,” Alya supplied. 

“For monkeys,” Maisie added.

Stella the cat purred at their heels.

“And Stella as well,” James finished.

Maisie nodded. “Yes.”

“Stella as well!”

Fitz’s eyes narrowed. However, Jemma quickly arrived at his elbow and pulled him back with a, “the paint’s drying love,” and a wink to her children.

Though the heads of the Fitzsimmons Family household had been through quite the unpredictable times, or perhaps because of the unpredictable times they had gone through, their house itself had a rather steady routine. There were chore charts, bedtime routines, initialed coat hooks and handmade cubbies for shoes in the mud room. Knowing the routine like the back of their hands, the trio was well aware of what Saturdays meant, even in spite of rain. Day to go to the shops. And they were also well aware that it was their father’s week to go. So, with great care and perhaps a more dramatic presentation of stealth than was necessary, the children slowly began to fill their father’s rain jacket with as many monkeys as it could hold without being too noticeable. 

“Oh wait!” Maisie cried softly before they made their escape, “one more thing.”

She quickly grabbed the last item and made to put it into the right pocket. Alya, however, stopped her hand. 

“But--”

“No, we’ll add it Mais. Just want to add something special. James, grab the sticky notes from mum’s drawer.”

“We aren’t allowed to touch mum’s notepad.”

“I’m sure she would give us permission if we asked. I’ll tell her later.”

“On your head,” he muttered. A phrase he learned from his Uncle Hunter and one he repeated solely in a London accent.

With the sticky note obtained and a message written in Alya’s best handwriting, they tucked the special item down deep into the bottom of the pocket, covering it back up with the monkeys like treasure in sand. 

It was a few hours later when Fitz put on his coat, slid on his shoes, and headed out the door. He felt he was forgetting something but couldn’t for the life of him think what. Standing out in the slowly stopping rain, he went to unlock his car door only to find the keys were not in his hand. He quickly rushed back into the house, finding Jemma holding the keys. He took them from her with a shy grin, paying her for the keys with a kiss, and marched back into the mud. There was still something niggling the back of his brain, but he shrugged it off and started on his way. He smiled and waved as he caught the kids giggling in the window, likely laughing that he had once again left his keys. 

The shops went well enough. Fitz said hi to all the familiar people, went down the familiar aisles, and got everything off the list that they needed. He even slipped in a bag of Maltesers and Twiglets to share with the kids. With the shopping done, he rolled his cart over to pay. 

“Hello, Fitz,” Bonnie, Fitz’s favorite check-out lady, said. She always gave the kiddos stickers and cooed over how tall they were growing.

Fitz smiled and took a pause in placing his groceries down to give her a proper hello. “Afternoon, Bonnie. Day slow?”

“As mud,” she sighed. “And how about yours?”

“I pray for a slow day,” he chuckled. But in his smile was also the look of one who would take the fast pace of fatherhood to any other kind of life.

They passed the rest of the scanning with normal mundane banter, the man behind Fitz in line joining in when the weather was mentioned. Finally his last item was run up--a block of mozzarella--and Fitz reached into his pockets for his wallet. It was then that it hit him.

“Oh bloody hell,” he huffed.

“Everything alright?” Bonnie asked.

Fitz dug into his pockets. “Just checking for my wallet--what the?”

It was then that he noticed there were quite a few more items than normal in the pockets of his coat. One by one while in pursuit of his wallet Fitz abstracted more and more monkeys.

“Those cheeky little monkeys,” he muttered, trying his best not to smile. He set the fourth monkey down next to the card reader. 

“Well I think you have an infestation on your hands,” Bonnie said through a wide grin. 

A finger puppet monkey left a pocket and joined its companions. “Seems I do.”

“Didn’t know a pocket could hold a whole zoo,” the man behind Fitz said. 

“And yet not a wallet,” Fitz groaned. And he started to empty the one on the other side. 

When three more were taken out of their hiding place, Bonnie actually snorted. 

“Exactly how many monkeys do your children own, Fitz?” 

“Wha--oh. A fair few. These are just what--” he took out another “could fit in my coat. One takes up half of Alya’s bedroom. I told their Uncle it was ridiculous, but he was trying to win a bet I think.” Indeed he had been. Hunter had been livid. But the kids loved Big Mack and Hunter M.D. (he was both a monkey doctor and medium sized in comparison to Bick Mack) equally.

“Surprised they didn’t manage to stick one up your nose,” the cashier said. She picked up one of the mini monkeys that once danced on Maisie’s mobile. 

“They would have tried had I let them.” It was then that Fitz finished off the monkeys with a whole connected strand. It was a gift from their Aunt Elena and collapsed like an accordion and stretched about a foot and a half if given the opportunity. Fitz had to do a sort of juggle to keep it from slinking off the counter. Finally, with the monkeys all removed, he reached his hand into his pocket once more. To his tremendous relief there, at the very depths of his coat pocket, was his wallet. He pulled it out and nearly dropped it, letting out a laugh. Stuck to the front of the folded leather was a bright yellow sticky note with a message in Alya’s best handwriting next to a doodle of a monkey:

_ You almost left this daddy.  _

“Everything alright dear?” Bonnie asked over her glasses.

“Yes,” Fitz said, grabbing his card to finally pay. “Just a final present from my kids.”

It was a few minutes later when Fitz finally got back home. He had spent a good deal of time apologizing to the rather gracious man behind him in line and to Bonnie as he gathered up his army of small monkeys. With them back safely in his pockets and the groceries loaded into the boot of the car, he finally got back home.

He walked into the house, all the bags he could carry hanging from his arms, to the staple sounds of barking, shouting, meowing, and Jemma’s clear: “don’t swarm your da!”

Laughing, Fitz placed the groceries down on the kitchen counter and turned around to find his kids already lined up in the archway. Jemma was standing behind them, her hair still tied up in a knot from painting. The corners of her lips were pulling upwards and Fitz shot her a quick  _ you were in on it _ look. She shook her head, but the grin gave away at least her knowledge of a plan. He narrowed his eyes briefly, but the slight uptick of his mouth gave him away.

“How were the shops, daddy?” Maisie asked brightly. Her cheeks were an excited shade of rosy pink. Next to her, the eldest was trying to hold off a grin.

“Yes, da,” Alya said, “was it slow?”

“As mud,” Fitz replied. 

“Nothing not in the ordinary?” Maisie asked.

“Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “Everything as normal as green on grass.” Then his eyes narrowed and his hands dug back into his pockets. “Until I found that someone… or should I say some three, put a whole football team of monkeys in my pockets.” He revealed as many of the monkeys as he could grab with a dramatic flourish and the children erupted into giggles.

“How you managed to fit them all without me noticing I will never know!” he said, putting all the monkeys down next to the grocery bags.

“We worked real hard,” Maisie said. 

“Yes, very hard,” Alya agreed.

“And steal--still--stealthy,” James said.

Jemma kissed his dark hair. “Stealthily indeed.”

“But, no good prank can go unpunished,” Fitz said, causing the laughter to turn into awws. “I know I know, mean ol’ Da. Come on you lot, help me get all the groceries from the car.”

There was a bit of grumbling, but the kids all made their way to the door.

“Uh uh uh,” Jemma called, “wellies on Maisie monkey! Alya please help James with his boots.”

Fitz came up behind Jemma, wrapping his arms around her waist. They smiled as they watched the little trio finally pad out to paddle in muddy puddles and bring in the groceries. He rested his chin on her shoulder and held out the sticky note.

“They put it on my wallet,” he said. 

Jemma laughed before kissing his hand that had the note and wrapping it back around her waist.

“Cheeky monkeys,” she said.

“Indeed,” he said. “And we couldn’t have asked for better.”


End file.
